Got wood?
by Natmonkey
Summary: Chrysanthemum pays Bevil a surprise visit and is greeted by a sight for sore eyes. A sequel to the prequel "Happy Birthday".
1. Chapter 1

_This story has been done for a while now. I was going to give this boy I don't even know dibs on it, but I've been waiting for a long time and so now I say fuck it, I'm uploading it. I despise sitting on a story for too long. In any case, I dedicate this story to the boy I don't really know. He keeps changing his pen name (so far I've seen it as Visceri the Raving Troll, Genius the Nobody and Endless Namelesson), so I'm just going to call him Bob. Enjoy the story, Bob. It's plenty dirty. _

* * *

Bevil started awake when he heard his mother calling. Chrysanthemum's pleasured meowing was still ringing in his ears and it still felt as if he could feel her feverishly hot, sweat-slicked skin against his own. Another one. Once or twice a week he would wake up sweating and hard as a rock from dreaming of the girl's naked body pressed against his, her breasts in his hands. He didn't know how breasts felt exactly, but from the occasional hug he'd given Chrysanthemum, he imagined they would be nice and squishy. Squishy but firm.

"Bevil!" his mother called again. Why, why did she have to interrupt his sweet dream? This time he hadn't even gotten to fully enjoy Chrys. She'd just peeled off her tiny lacy panties and straddled his hips, about to lower herself onto him. It was almost as if he could feel the heat emanating from her sex against the very tip of him. Oh Gods.

"Yes mom, what is it?" he yelled back. Of all the moments she could've picked to wake him.

Moments later Retta came into his bedroom. "We need some firewood; would you go outside and cut a few logs for me?" She pretended not to notice the elevated portion of his sheets. The boy was going through puberty; he didn't need any funny comments from his mother.

"Can't I do it tomorrow?" Bevil groaned and rubbed his eyes. Cutting timber was the last thing he wanted to do. In fact, as soon as his mother would leave his room, he was going to give some attention to a wholly different kind of wood. Lately it seemed like that was all he did: his chores and playing with himself. The latter all because of the lovely Chrysanthemum Farlong.

"Bevil Starling," his mother chastised him, "I did not raise you to become a lazy bum who lies in bed all day. If you continue procrastinating like this, we will end up freezing to death this winter."

The boy sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll do it. Just give me a moment."

"Fair enough. But don't take all day, now." Retta slapped the side of her right hand against the palm of the left. "Chop chop!" Laughing heartily at her little joke, the older woman left her son alone.

Immediately after he no longer heard her footsteps, Bevil stuck his hand down his shorts. He was harder than he'd ever been, throbbing even. Conjuring an image of Chrysanthemum in his mind, the boy closed his eyes and slowly began stroking himself. In his mind's eye the girl approached him with a seductive smile on her face, her curves encased in a tight dress. In his favorite shade of green. Slowly she began stripping for him, shrugged off the straps, bared her shapely shoulders. When her breasts were revealed, maddeningly slowly coming into full view, he felt himself grow in his hand.

Chrysanthemum's small hands cupped her breasts, far too large to cover fully, and rolled her nipples between her fingers. He imagined how she would bite her plump lower lip as she massaged her wonderful bosom, softly moaning. Just the thought of that was enough. Biting back a moan, Bevil climaxed. For one long moment he got washed over with a blissful feeling, then it was over. Content though he was, the young man was a bit disappointed he hadn't even gotten to the part where she was fully naked and bent over before him. But they needed firewood apparently, and his mother might become annoying if he continued putting it off like this. Erotic daydreams would have to wait. With a wistful sigh he wiped away any residue of his activities and rose to get ready for his chore.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a hot day and chopping up wood was hard work, so Bevil had doffed his shirt, sometimes using the garment to wipe the moisture from his head and neck. At some point he looked up from his labor and found Chrysanthemum standing there. He had no idea for how long she'd been watching him, her brown eyes even wider than usually, not saying a word. The blood rushed to his face when he realized he was naked from the waist up. "Oh… Uhm, h-hi, Chrysanthemum."

Still the girl said nothing, but swallowed thickly and continued staring at him. Bevil waved his hand up and down before her face. "Chrys? Are you alright?"

Suddenly she swooned; he was just in time to catch her before she would hit the ground. "Oh Gods," she groaned. Chest heaving, she whispered: "I don't feel very well. I should go home and lie down, I think."

Presently the boy forgot his unclad state and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, overcome by worry. "You don't have to walk back home like this. You can stay in my room." Worried or no, Bevil still had an ulterior motive for letting her sleep there. He figured the sweet smell that surrounded her would seep into his bedding and make his daydreams even realer. But the poor girl was trembling like a leaf, so those thoughts were quickly pushed to the back of his mind. "Mom!" he called once inside.

"Yes?" Retta poked her head out of the living room and smiled when she saw Chrysanthemum. "Oh hello… Why, are you alright?" The redness of the young woman's face and glazed-over eyes rather concerned the older lady. "Are you feverish?"

"H-hello Mrs. Starling." Chrys' voice sounded positively pitiful. "I'm not feeling very well."

Mrs. Starling looked the girl up and down. Well, from the looks of her, she probably wasn't with child. She'd heard what some of the boys said about the young woman, that the Mossfield brothers had all taken their pleasure of her behind a barn one Harvest Festival and other colorful tales. Not that Retta believed all that nonsense; Chrysanthemum was very pretty and well-behaved, so those stories might have been made up out of spite after she'd turned down someone's advances.

"I'm going to put her to bed, mom." Bevil only had eyes for his little friend, casting her worried glances and letting her lean against him. He'd even forgotten to put his shirt back on. "Is that okay?"

Retta smiled to herself. Those two would make a lovely couple. "Of course son. Feel better, Chrysanthemum."

The girl nodded in response, smiling weakly as Bevil guided her to his room. There he carefully helped her into his bed and laid the covers over her. "Take a nap, alright? I will come and check on you later." Resisting the urge to kiss her, he awkwardly patted her arm instead.

"Thanks, Bevil." With a slight smile, she looked up at him. "I'll see you then."

The boy nodded and reflexively brushed some stray locks of hair over her ear. Embarrassment immediately set in. "Uh, y-yeah. That timber isn't going to chop itself up." After some stuttered excuses, he scurried back out.

* * *

With her lips stretched into a wide grin, Chrysanthemum buried her face in the pillow. What a casual surprise visit couldn't accomplish. She was in the bed of the boy she adored! His scent was all around her, that lovely smell of freshly cut grass and sun-bleached hay. Pretending to be ill was so easy. Especially since she'd become all hot and bothered from watching Bevil work. For several minutes she had stood there, watching his muscles flex every time the axe came down and effortlessly chopped a log in two. The sight had her rooted to the spot. He'd become so much more powerful these past few years, no doubt a result of all the chores his mother had him do. Thank the Gods the woman worked her son like he was some kind of plough horse.

It had been about a year since Chrysanthemum had made her vow that the Starling boy would become hers. True to his word, he'd given her a vase for her seventeenth birthday. It was a rather crude thing, but she appreciated the thought, often looking at the object with a dreamy smile on her face. Today she'd come awfully close to just taking him. She wanted to shower his naked body with kisses, taste the salt on his skin, run her tongue along the outline of his beautifully defined abdominal muscles. Take off his pants, lick the area a little lower and then start riding him like a pony.

Before she even knew what was going on, Chrys had her hand between her legs already. Her fingers rubbed between her wet, swollen lips, her thumb sought the little nub just above them. A low whimper escaped her throat as she gently stroked her pulsating clit and slipped her fingers in, her other hand cupping her breast and squeezing it. The scent of her loved one filled her senses, made her feel as if he was there in the bed with her.

She imagined what it would feel like if he'd run his hands all over her body, softly kiss the sensitive skin of her neck. If his mouth would travel lower and capture her hard nipple between his lips. Flick his tongue along the tip. Move his hand between her legs and pleasure her like she did herself. Perhaps with his mouth too. Just the thought of feeling his tongue on her most sensitive of places was enough to send her flying over the edge. Biting down on her lip, Chrysanthemum climaxed. Her muscles clenched around her fingers as the waves of pleasure coursed through her body. For a moment she waited to recover, then rubbed herself to another orgasm, and then another. All the while she fancied him there with her, thrusting himself deep into her the way she did herself with the candle hidden under her pillow.

She saw stars when she opened her eyes. Whew. Never had she come this hard. Must have been that delicious smell. Her fingers were wrinkled and glistening from her copiously flowing juices. A naughty little idea hatched in her brain. Giggling, she wiped her fingers on Bevil's pillow. Chrysanthemum had just marked her territory. With a content smile on her face, she dozed off, comfortably nestled in the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Outside, Bevil had mechanically been cleaving the logs. What on earth could be wrong with Chrysanthemum? He had never seen her like that. Perhaps it was a women's problem, the same thing that used to turn his mother into a shrieking hellcat once a moon. If that were the case, it was none of his business and he should ask her no more. That poor girl. He felt the strong urge to run into his room and hug her. Perhaps she would like a glass of water? Only a few more logs and he would be done. They almost had enough firewood to last them three winters.

As soon as the last log was reduced to smaller chunks, he carried it off to the pile of firewood and went into the house to get cleaned up. Squeaky clean but still shirtless, he went into his room with a nice cool glass of water for his friend.

He found her curled up into a fetal position, her long black hair fanned out behind her. The girl was smiling in her sleep, her little nose wrinkled in the cutest way. As quietly as he could manage, Bevil bent down and softly kissed her cheek. Stealing a kiss from her lips would be all too bold. She looked so pretty, so innocent. He didn't give a fig if she had slept with every guy in West Harbor (which he doubted anyway), he liked her _so_ much. And if she truly were that experienced, all the better. That way she could teach him very interesting things.

Suddenly Chrys' eyes fluttered open. "Bevil?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Are you feeling better?" With a sheepish smile he offered her the glass. "I brought you some water."

The girl smiled and sat up. The covers glided off her upper body, revealing an almost inappropriately low neckline. The Starling boy's eyes almost popped out of their sockets from the sight; strange that he hadn't noticed what she had on before. Her breasts looked so delectable he'd give his right arm to be able to eat ice cream off of them.

"Thank you." She drained the glass in one gulp, drinking so greedily a little rivulet spilled from her mouth, right into her cleavage. "Oops." With a charming giggle, she wiped away the water.

Bevil traced the course the droplet ran down her chest with his eyes, wishing he could lick it off her. The sight of her creamy bosom almost made him explode. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his erection. It only got worse when she raised her arms above her head for a good long stretch, groaning delightedly all the while. Her nipples were in grave danger of being exposed.

But Chrysanthemum made sure that wouldn't happen. She certainly didn't want the object of her affection to die from shock; she had such great plans for the two of them. Seeing him without his shirt on pleased her to no end. It would provide her with many wonderful hours of fantasy. From the corners of her eyes she committed every line of his body to memory. "I'm good now. Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed." Curving an arm around his neck, she pecked him on the cheek. "I really appreciate it."

Immediately after that slight contact Bevil turned as red as a beetroot. "I, uh, y-you're welcome."

Chrysanthemum sighed inwardly. Here she was in her fanciest dress, the neckline so low her boobs were almost spilling out, and still he wasn't interested. What else was a girl to do? She could hardly jump his bones right then and there. Briefly she toyed with the idea of pushing her breasts in his face to see what he would do, but discarded it quickly. If he really didn't like her, it would only ruin their friendship. And no matter how much she wanted to bed him, she didn't want to lose her almost life-long friend. "I suppose I better go home," she spoke curtly. This really wasn't going anywhere.

"Oh, okay…" Bevil shot her a surprised look after hearing her gruff words. "Would you like to stay for dinner, or something?" Daeghun was away again, and so Chrys was all alone in the Farlong house. Not only would she not have to cook her own food this way, he would also have her around a little longer.

"No, thanks." The girl shook her head. "I have tons of stuff to do." Stuff that included making dinner, folding the clothes that she had hung to dry and playing with herself. That frustration wasn't going to take care of itself.

Her companion's face took on a sad expression. "I understand. Was there any particular reason you came over here, by the way?"

"No," she replied with a smile. "Just saying hello. Take care, I'll see you around." Chrysanthemum rose from the bed, patted her friend on the arm and exited his room. Wistfully Bevil stared at her swaying hips, attempting to make her want to stay with only the power of his mind. Sadly his mind wasn't powerful enough, it seemed.


	4. Chapter 4

Reluctantly Chrysanthemum picked her clothes off the line. Dress, dress, shirt, skirt, knickers, dress, shirt, nightgown... She could've sworn there had been more pairs of underwear here. Several more. Some idiot must've stolen them. Again. Arms filled to the brim, she walked into her house, silently cursing whoever it was that kept stealing her panties. Inside it was awfully quiet, with or without her foster father around. The man hardly ever opened his mouth.

The girl hummed a tune to herself to chase away the silence as she neatly folded her clothing. How in the Nine Hells was she supposed to survive with only three pairs of knickers to her name? Maybe she'd even have to go bottomless. _Great_ idea. If anyone were to see it, the stories about her would become even more colorful.

Chrys laughed out loud. A week earlier, Amie had worriedly asked her if she had really taken a tumble with three boys at once. The young wizard's shocked expression had been absolutely priceless when, just for fun, her friend had "admitted" to the rumor being true. Silly Amie was all too gullible. The girls had gotten a good laugh about it and then dropped the matter entirely.

The Farlong girl didn't care about whatever those stupid boys had to say about her; the only one that mattered was Bevil, and he was either indoors too much to have heard, or he didn't care at all. Let those fools talk about her all they wanted, if it amused them so. They didn't know her. The image of Bevil's half-naked, glistening body popped into her mind all of a sudden, sending almost painful pangs of lust into her underbelly. Chrysanthemum flew to her room and flung herself onto her bed.

Hands all atremble, she hiked up her skirts, simultaneously retrieving her well-used candle from under her pillow. Without further ado she thrust the thing into her warm wetness. An unashamed moan tumbled from her lips; after all, who was there to hear? This time she wasn't very gentle with herself. She closed her eyes and pretended it was Bevil who was fucking her, hard and fast. No sweet lovemaking, just pure animal lust.

With every thrust came a wet noise, fragrant juices trickling down the insides of the girl's thighs. The fingers of her other hand fervently stroking her yearning bud sent her flying into a violent orgasm. She screamed as her entire body shook and trembled, her mind racked with bliss. Her thrusting hand moved slower and slower, in sync with her calming breathing.

Chrysanthemum sighed contently. She was utterly relaxed, all frustration gone from her body. Someday she would get him, someday. Maybe at some point, the boy wouldn't be so thickheaded anymore. Or maybe she would work up the guts to tell him how she felt. Finally she cleaned off her candle. With her mouth. Somehow the young woman found the taste of her own sex enticing.

She doubled over from an intense feeling of hunger; her stomach rumbled loudly. Dinner time. Clothes in order and candle hidden, Chrysanthemum went to the kitchen, whistling happily.

* * *

That night Bevil lay in bed, reveling in the sweet smell Chrysanthemum had left there. Out of the blue he noticed something. It was an unfamiliar scent, unknown to his senses but oddly arousing. He sniffed and sniffed and determined the source to be nothing other than his own pillow. Strange. He hugged the thing to his chest, inhaling deeply. For some reason, images of a certain pretty girl sprang into his mind. Of her stripping off her clothes, swaying her body to a rhythm only she could hear. Of her bare breasts, her round behind. Of the (inaccurate) idea he had created of what her sex must look like. Beautiful sounds of pleasure, pouring from pouty red lips.

He spent this night sleepless, now slowly stroking himself to an intense finish, then wondering where that wonderful smell came from. It would be years before he would finally realize what smelled so delicious.


End file.
